One Long Drive
by EvanescentBeauty
Summary: Overcome with greif from Neil's suicide, Todd overdoses on a bottle of Vicodin . . . can Charlie save him? Nonslash, you hear me! NONNNNN!
1. Story Trailer

**A/N:** I've seen some people do this for their own stories...Now, I usually don't go for things like this, I have much more fun making the real thing, but since there is absolutely NO way I will be able to make a real trailer for this, I made a fakey one that you will have to use your imagination for.

_Shows Todd rolling a pill back and forth on the table. A voiceover of Todd's voice is heard..._

"It was the worst thing that's ever happened to me. Life now is just..."

_There's a clanging boom sound as the screen bams out to black._

"It's just not worth it."

_Screen still black, we hear banging on the door._

"Todd? I'm coming in!"

_Screen fades back into the scene, Plays slightly dramatic music, shows Charlie holding Todd out over the toilet._

"You know what you have to do! **DO IT!"**

_Todd leaning back in Charlie's shoulder._

"Don't.. ... care..."

"Damn it Todd"!

_Gentle piano music starts to play, Shows the two boys sitting by the bathtub.._

Todd: "You can't tell anyone."

Charlie. "You almost killed yourself tonight."

Todd: "You don't know what I'm going through."

Charlie. "I know _exactly _what you're going through..."

_Title comes onto the screen, _

**Will two boys have the strength to overcome the hardest hurdle of their lives?**

Charlie (solemnly): "Todd..."

Todd(turning away from door): "I swear it."

_(end of trailer)_


	2. We Have a Problem

**A/N: PLEASE READ!!!!!!!**

This is based loosely on this suicide movie we had to watch in my summer school Health class and inspired by listening to "The Vicodin Song" by Terra Naomi over and over. Rated PG-14 for drugs, language. Also, THIS IS NOT A SLASH FIC!!!!!! NO TODD/NEIL, NO TODD/CHARLIE. NNNNOOOOTTTTHHHIIINNNGGGGGG...READ MY FURRY PINK LIPS!!!!!!!

* * *

_How could he have done something like that? How could he? Did we all make life so unbearably cold that he couldn't stand it a moment longer? What about Charlie? Knox? Pitts and Meeks?_

_...What about me?_

Seventeen-year-old Todd Anderson paced the floor of his room anxiously as the clock on his bedside table clicked 2:31 AM. Everything about his life was ruined. Everything was screwing up -- pff, it already _was _screwed up, who was he kidding? He wanted to relax. That's what he really wanted to do. Sit down on the bed and let all his muscles relax until he floated into the farthest corners of his mind...free from tradgedy and death. Free from the sadness of Neil's abrupt departure. Free from the living hell that his life had literally become.

What was it? The fact that Neil had so much more to contribute to the world before his death? The fact that Mr. Keating was now gone and the Dead Poets Society was basically over? Or was it the fact that Neil, Todd's one and only inspiration to keep going, was now gone from the face of the Earth? Neil was his friend...his best friend...he'd like to say his only friend, but that wasn't exactly true. But then, sometimes, it was. If Neil wasn't so goddamn nice, and if he hadn't shoved Todd's existence in the rest of the guys' faces, Todd would probably still be shivering and trembling in the farthest corners of his room, knowing naught of the Dead Poets. But the fact of the matter was, he _had _been Neil's friend...and now he and the rest of the boys were suffering the consequences.

Trembling in the cold air that blew through the window he had left open, he walked over to the desk drawer and yanked it open. He reached inside, shoving his hand to the back corners of the box-shaped compartment, and withdrew a small Swiss Army knife, which he snapped open. Without a moment's hesitation, he placed the cold blade about four inches up from the tiny blue veins that pulsed at his wrist, and slowly made a deep cut. In fact, it was a lot deeper than he had wanted it to go, but it made him slightly happier. He watched-- his senses numbed and dull-- as the blood seeped through the cut and dribbled down his arm. He watched as three drops of the crimson liquid fell onto the ground, making soft plopping noises on the dusty wood floors that only he could hear. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. He'd been cutting for months now... it was a pain that even the Dead Poets Society couldn't quench... this was the only way.

But even now it was barely enough.

"Todd?" said Charlie tentatively, knocking on the door. "Todd...are you there? I, uh...I wanted to talk to you."

Todd said nothing, and his body lay quiet and motionless on the bed, letting every muscle in his existence loosen and ready for whatever was to come, whether it be excruciating pain or death itself.

"Listen...you haven't been out of there for days, man...I just wanted to know if you're--"

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain in Todd's stomach and he let out a gasping yelp. He doubled over into the fetal position and clutched his stomach, which twanged and hissed with pain inside of him.

"Todd? Are you okay? Todd!"

Todd gasped and panted as the pain began to worsen. His muscles began to twitch and spasm involuntarily.

"I'm coming in," declared Charlie, pushing the door open. Todd only saw the shocked look of confusion on Charlie's face before he let out a grunt and crumpled to the ground.

"_Todd!" _cried Charlie, bending down to his level. He pushed Todd over onto his back, his hands on his shoulders and his worried expression was now showing signs of fear.

"What the hell did you do?" he breathed. "_What did you do!?!_" he shouted, shaking his friend violently as Todd said nothing.

"Ch...arlie..." breathed Todd. "I'm so tired..."

"Bullshit, man!" hissed Charlie, so angry he barely knew what to do or say. All he knew was that he was scared. He twisted hurriedly in search of anything Todd might have done to hurt himself, when he spotted the small orange bottle on the bedside table. He grabbed it, held it up to his ear, and shook it. Alarmed, Charlie popped it open and let out a breath of horror as he saw that there were no pills left.

"What did you take?! _What is this_?!" shouted Charlie, shaking the bottle in front of Todd's face. He searched frantically over the bottle until he found the name on the bottle. "Hydrocodone?" he hissed to himself, his eyebrows scrunching up. Then he looked at Todd. "You took Vicodin!?! Todd, you're gonna kill yourself!"

"Don't...care..." wheezed Todd, as Charlie wrenched his friend up off the ground and hurried down the hall to the nearest restroom. He slammed open the stall door and made Todd kneel down over the toilet.

"Come on, man," he said urgently. "You know what you gotta do, now do it!"

"No..." panted Todd.

"For Christs' sake, Todd!" snapped Charlie, shoving his fingers into the back of Todd's throat. He rubbed the slimy back of the throat and felt Todd convulse under them. He whipped out his fingers just in time, as Todd retched into the bowl.

Todd sat on the tiled floor of the bathroom, his knees pressed to his chest and his arms wrapped around his shins. His chin was rested in the cleft of his knees, and he was staring off into the distance. There was a small window at the top of the wall of the bathroom, letting a beam of moonlight fall onto Todd's face, which was clouded with an emotion that Charlie could not define. Was it regret at what he had just done? Or attempted to do? Was it fear that Charlie would pull a Cameron and squeal? Was it sadness -- sheer, utter sadness-- that Neil was gone? Or was it something else...? Something that Charlie couldn't define yet, didn't have the capacity to define... something that he didn't know was possible to feel. There were no tears on Todd's face, but his face had a clammy quality... his eyes had a puffiness that could only mean tears. Maybe Todd had cried before he tried to kill himself.

"What are you thinking about?" asked Charlie quietly, one leg propped up against the other, his right arm hanging casually over it, his left hand twitching involuntarily at his left thigh. Todd didn't answer... did he really expect him to? The series of events that had just taken place... the horrible action that Todd had just tried to commit . . .it wasn't something that could easily be chatted about in day-to-day conversation. What had been going on his head while he picked up the bottle of pills... it was not something that could be explained... at least not through words-- not rationally.

"Todd, listen," began Charlie quietly. "I know that Neil's death shook you . . ."

"Please don't," whispered Todd. Charlie blinked.

"What?" he said.

"Don't," repeated Todd.

"Don't what?"

"Don't talk about it. Don't act like you understand what I'm going through."

"If you had just let me finish, Todd--"

"I don't want to listen."

"Fine! Then don't listen... let me talk!"

"Maybe that's your problem..." Todd murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Listen, Todd, you can't pull stuff like that. You can't do it. You think that's what Neil would want? Neil was... he was trapped. Trapped under his father's thumb."

Todd said nothing.

"I'm not saying his was a good decision... that's my point. Suicide is not a smart decision. It's not rational... it's not an action chosen by a course of thoughts in the brain. When someone feels they have no other choice -- they have no way out -- that's what I always observed happening."

"You mean..." began Todd after a long pause. "This has... you've ... this has happened before?"

"My cousin," sniffed Charlie. He had no desire at all to talk about his cousin, who he had loved dearly, but if he was ever going to persuade Todd to give in, then he was going to have to give a little back.

"What happened?" asked Todd, his eyes not leaving the window. "Pills?"

"Rope," said Charlie bitterly. "Monica had this beautiful little red lamp hanging from her bedroom ceiling... it was this oriental glass monstrosity, but I know she liked it. One day, we came in, and we found her hanging by the neck by a rope that had been tied around the hook... we saw that little lamp on the floor and we'd known what happened."

Todd said nothing again.

"Anyway, that doesn't matter," continued Charlie. "You can't pull stuff like this, Todd. You wanna know what's gonna happen? You wanna know how this is all gonna end? Nolan's gonna make us all sign a paper or a petition or some other piece of shit saying that Keating was responsible for everything. A nice clean little way to package everything up and not lose any money. They never liked Keating to begin with, and as long as no students are expelled, they keep getting their money."

"That's wrong."

"That's fucking private school."

"But . . .it's blackmail."

"It's how things work, squirrel."

Todd said nothing.

"Todd . . . I know you were getting really close to Neil--"

"I wasn't getting close," snapped Todd.

"I'm just saying that he was my friend too, and it's going to take a while to get over everything..."

"Says who?"

"Says you, obviously! Considering you just tried to kill yourself because--"

"Who says?"

"Is this a game? One of those philosophical shit games that--"

"No, I mean who says that it's because of Neil?"

Charlie paused. "Wh...what do you mean? Isn't it?" Todd didn't say anything.

"I'm just trying to understand."

"What are you? My fucking therapist?" snapped Todd, flarign up at once. In the approximately 6 months that Charlie had known and come to be friends with Todd, he had never seen Todd be so forceful... so angry or opinionative.

"I'm a big boy, and I can take care of myself!" Todd growled, standing up.

"Define 'care', Todd! Does 'caring for yourself' mean knocking back a bottle of pills to --"

"End the pain!" yelled Todd.

"To give up!" yelled Charlie, even louder, jumping up right alongside him. "To give up just like Neil when there were plenty of other options available!"

In the two seconds that Charlie paused to take a heaving breath, the yells of their deep voices reverberated off the tiled walls, and the two boys realized how loud they were being. Charlie sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You better burn that bottle," said Charlie. "Hager _can't _find it. Better to lose it then find it somewhere it's not supposed to be. Somewhere it's really not supposed to be."

"Oh shut up, Charlie," growled Todd.

"Make me, pea-brain!" snapped Charlie forcefully. Todd rolled his eyes, but kept quiet.

"Listen," whispered Charlie after a while. "I'm sorry, okay? For trying to ... I dunno, understand your wounded soul or whatever, but... please take me seriously, okay? What I said, I mean."

"Sure," scoffed Todd, distractedly. Of all the times to feel hurt, this was Charlie's time.

"Todd," he said quietly. Todd reluctantly turned his troubled blue eyes to Charlie, which were now looking glassy and watery. The boys locked eyes for a moment, and a communication shot through them like fire that could not be described in words.

"Alright."

"Promise you won't do this again," said Charlie. Todd looked hesitant, but, truthfully, it was this pause that helped Charlie look even more reassured that Todd was truly thinking about it. Weighing the odds and choosing carefully. It was because of this theory that Charlie had to bite back a sigh of releif when Todd said, "I swear it."


End file.
